Camilla

My heels click on the tiles of the long corridor. The smell of pine fills my nose as the dark shiny wooden beams hold my interest. My black pencil skirt and jacket not long enough to shield me from the meeting I have been dreading since my Grandfather had called for me. The call came in the form of a phone call for a change and not a nuclear Armageddon. Regardless, I had to drop everything and get my ass here as soon as possible. Or my Grandfather would declare a world war ...